16/07/2026
A client has given me permission to reproduce her experience with hypnosis. She has an impressive history as a highly successful author and teacher educator and she has kept journals since she was at primary school. This comes from her journal. . 
First experience of hypnosis (6/7/2026)
Before I decided to try hypnosis for anxiety, I had tried other psychological processes and strategies with other therapists. I had also read/listened to various self-help processes and programs (e.g. Russ Harris, The Happiness Trap and Mel Robbins, The Let Them Theory). On the other hand, I had not tried medications for anxiety or depression, and I had never tried hypnosis for anything. At the beginning,my questions were whether I would be ‘able’ to be hypnotised and if it would ‘work’. Afterwards, myquestion was what ‘worked’ meant.
Before my first hypnosis I was eager and slightly nervous. Maybe my slight nervousness came from the idea of control. I was not only wondering whether hypnosis was real; I was wondering how much of myself I was prepared to hand over. I’m anxious because I like being in control
Because I was doing this via Zoom, I had wondered if someone else should be in the room in case something went ‘wrong’, whatever that might manifest as. Instead, I asked my therapist if I could have my phone next to me. For security? I’m not sure but I trusted him because I thought, I ‘know’ him and he ‘knows’ me, albeit from a long time ago. Besides I thought it shouldn’t cause me lasting harm. In any case, I had chosen to trust the process and the therapist. I wondered whether I would be aware of what was happening, whether I would remember it afterwards, and whether I would, in some way, feelless anxious because of undergoing hypnosis.
During the hypnosis, the experience was not as passive as I had expected. I was aware of the hypnotist’s voice, the room around me, some noises from the wind outside and my own thoughts moving in and out of focus. At times my body felt heavier and more relaxed, as though stillness was becoming easier than movement. My breathing slowed, and I ungripped my hands. I was not asleep, and I was not fully in my usual state of alertness either. I seemed to be somewhere between active attention and quiet peace. It felt like becoming quieter, more focused, and more willing to follow where my attention was being guided. I was surprised by how still I was. I felt some tingling in my hands and feet and, as the process continued, my breathing changed.
What surprised me most was that the suggestions did not feel forced. They did not arrive like directions from outside me. Instead, they seemed to work because I allowed myself to imagine them, accept them, and respond to them. That I was also not completely detached from the process made the question of control more complicated. Hypnosis felt less like someone taking over my mind and more like being invited to trust a particular direction of thought, or to reimagine an experience, of being in a ‘safe’ place, a cave (not a usual safe place for me). It felt more like listening to myself, not in an analytic way but from a quieter place.
The moment I was in that cave I felt a shift. It was a bit like guided imagery that I have used in English classes as pre-writing stimulus for student writers.
What surprised me most was that I shed tears when I was asked to toss the cases, backpacks and boxes of ‘baggage’ (named and unnamed) I’d collected over time into a well in the cave. That was the moment I realised something unusual was happening. When I was ‘awakened’ by the therapist I said, ‘I don’t know why I’m crying’ and he said,’ It’s just a release of emotion’. Mmmmm, OK I thought. It was the end of the session, and I had a distorted idea of the time (what seemed like 15 mins was more like 45 mins later).
After the hypnosis I felt relaxed, calm, warm and slightly ‘tipsy’, like after a glass or two of good red wine. I remembered enough to reflect on the experience, but my memory felt softened around the edges. I was left with impressions: the calmness and steadiness of my body, and the unusual feeling of being both present and distant from myself. Emotionally, I felt less unsettled than I expected. Rather than feeling as if something had been done to me, I felt as if I had participated in something that revealed how responsive my mind can be when it is focused and relaxed.
The experience also challenged me. It did not prove hypnosis in the theatrical sense I had imagined, but it did show me that suggestion, trust, and attention can shape perception in powerful ways. I realised that being hypnotised was not simply about whether I was gullible or strong-minded. It was about how my mind responds when I’m given permission to focus deeply, relax, and engage with an idea as though it might be true. It was not like you see on movies and in mass hypnosis stage shows. Instead, the experience was far more subtle, and that made it more interesting.
Looking back, being hypnotised revealed something about trust, identity, and the willingness to let go. I expected the experience to be defined by losing control, but it was more about choosing where to place my trust. It made me think about how much of daily life already depends on suggestion: the stories we tell ourselves, the habits we follow, and the expectations we carry into familiar and unfamiliar situations.
Hypnosis did not make me feel less like myself. If anything, it made me more aware of the quiet parts of myself that are usually hidden beneath overactive thoughts, resistance, and ‘analysis paralysis’.
In the end, I came away with a different understanding of what it means for hypnosis to ‘work’. It was not a magic trick, nor was it a complete loss of will. It was an experience of focused attention, trust, and imagination. The most meaningful part was not that I was hypnotised, but that I was able to observe how my mind responded to the possibility of being hypnotised.
When I woke in the early hours of the next day, I tried to re-enter that cave, look at the waterfall and the glittering rock wall, find that well, throw the bagging in, sit I the comfortable recliner chair and meet that ‘little girl’ again, and be me. That reflection has stayed with me more than any single suggestion did. I did feel changed afterwards. So, did it work? I guess time will tell, but I’m up for more. Yes, I would do it again because it was pleasant, insightful and very very calming. Here’s hoping it’s a pathway to self-understanding and less anxiety
